Dear Teenage Self…

[eltd_dropcaps type=”normal” color=”” background_color=””]O[/eltd_dropcaps]n the eve of my 27th birthday, as I sit in bed sipping a Mimosa, minus the Champagne… okay, it’s a large glass of orange juice with ice but let me at least pretend to set a slightly more glamorous scene… I wonder how on earth I’ve made it this far. If you’d have told seventeen-year-old Sophie that ten years on she’d be perpetually single, renting a flat (not living in a five-bed mansion with a banker) and still sleeping with her childhood teddies, she’d have most definitely told you to F off.